


The End

by brink



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Child Murder, Dark, Mind Control, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 00:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7076278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brink/pseuds/brink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Re-upload of a story with alternate ending! See my series Divergence for the original.]<br/>This is a very dark "What if?" scenario, in which Jessica actually tried to get away from Kilgrave i the episode "AKA  1,000 Cuts". Things would have been very different...</p><p>See Notes inside for more info! And please heed the warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a re-upload of the chapter "AKA 1,000 Cuts" from my series Divergence. I know it's bad form to upload this when I have an unfinished series going on (and in a separate story no less). But from pretty much the moment I published the other chapter, I regretted chickening out on the dark ending. Honestly, there's only one way this could all go down - and Jessica magically passing out right when she was supposed to do the deed isn't it!  
> This is a separate upload because I think it's interesting if people can draw comparisons (should they so wish) to the original ending. I tried to tie the two together somewhat. This version messes A LOT more with the canon story. Apologies if anybody is disappointed :-) (FYI, I plan to finish my other story once finals are out of the way.)
> 
> And once more, with feeling: Heed the damn warnings! This here is not no happy ending, and I bummed myself out writing it.
> 
> Edit: I couldn't resist the temptation of making a few minor changes. This version now has slight alterations compared to the original (aside from, you know, the ending).

The wind sets her free.

It is such a gentle push, yet enough to lift the yellow gown forward, beckoning. Jessica leans with the wind, extends a foot. And then she's over the edge. She hears him, Kilgrave, but even that she is protected from, because his words are blown away, impossible to hear and so impossible to obey.

The fall is an ecstatic rush to freedom.

Then her feet connect, and her knees slam into the pavement. A jolt goes all the way up her spine. It hurts, but unlike anything Kilgrave has submitted her to, it's a sweet hurt. She did it to herself, and she's free now.

There's no white horse, only a bleak, near-empty street - but it's all the more magical for being real, and her in it with all her faculties and her freedom. Shakily, she stands up. Jessica is strong, but her body still aches from the impact with the ground. She starts down the sidewalk, wobbling, trying to get her bearings and trying to run.

 _Trish-Trish-Trish_ runs through her mind in a staccato rhythm. Trish, and then a plane to a place Kilgrave will never, ever find them. A happy ending far from harm.

The idea propels her into sprint, when she hears Kilgrave bellow her name.

"JESSICA!"

Jessica mindlessly ducks into an alley, flinging herself into hiding behind some trashcans. She presses her hands over her ears to the point of pain until all she can hear is the mad beat of her blood rushing through her veins, and her haggard, exalted breathing.

Through a crack between the cans, she keeps an eye on the mouth of the alley. Kilgrave soon appears. He looks thunderstruck. Rage and disbelief contort is face into a demented expression. His head whips around and he spins on his heel, searching. She watches his mouth form her name again, and then an order - _Come back! Come back right now!_ \- and she dreads the pull of his influence. But it doesn't come. Jessica is crushing her own ears against her skull, and she can't hear him.

She watches him continue down the street in a run.

She's so close. So fucking close to be rid of him. But what to do - wait it out or run now, risking that he's still close and will see her? It's impossible to know which is more right, and the deciding factor is this: The worst imaginable scenario is him finding her here, crouching like a coward, waiting to be collected and put to heel. No - however this escape ends, she will want to know she gave it her all.

So Jessica springs to her feet and runs out of the alley, turning to the opposite direction of where Kilgrave went without even looking to see if he's still there, if he sees her. She still has her hands over her ears. After a few steps, she prepares to put power in her legs to bound into the air.

_What's the highest you've jumped?_

_I don't know._

_Oh, come on, give me something. No - that's not quite what I meant, darling, but thanks for the lamp - tell me, how many storeys have you cleared? To your recollection._

_Four, one time._

_Four! Bloody amazing. Do you think you could do five, for me?_

To escape him, she will do even better than that.

That's the plan, anyway, when she is suddenly tackled and tossed on the ground.

Jessica spins wildly. A woman is on top of her - she's in her fourties, wearing a jogging outfit, a pink headband, and a frantic expression in her eyes.

"Jessica Jones?" she says. "Are you Jessica Jones?"

"No!" sobs Jessica. "No, I'm not her, I'm not."

"I found her!" screams the woman. "I've got Jessica!"

Jessica punches the woman in the gut, and she crumbles, falling to the side. When Jessica gets to her feet, she sees four more people sprinting her way, one of them having clearly just left his car running in the street.

"Stop, Jessica Jones!" yells someone. But it's not Kilgrave, so she doesn't. She whirls and tries to jump again, but as her feet leave the ground, a set of arms close around her midsection, and she is forced back down by the weight of another body. In a moment she is crowded by people, all yelling, all trying to hold her down.

"We've got her!"

"Jessica is here!"

"Don't let her up!"

Jessica grabs the front of some business man's shirt and uses it to pull him into another guy, freeing herself from them. She pulls, and shoves, and tries desperately not to hurt anybody - but they are mindless, propelled by orders from Kilgrave which clearly did not include any kind of self-preservation. Still, Jessica manages to free herself. And she starts back up on her run - then stops dead in her tracks.

There's a boy, only six or seven, with a Swiss army knife in his hand. He has pulled out the little blade and perched it against his eye.

"You have to stop, Jessica Jones," says the child.

Jessica's mind goes blank. She stands there and stares, unable to see a way out of this hell Kilgrave has made for her. If she rushes forward, will she be able to get the knife from him before...? No, not in this life.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers. "None of this is your fault."

"Please don't run anymore," whimpers the little boy. His hand is shaking, the blade twitching a hairs breadth from his eye.

Jessica is still looking for a way out when a simple order rings through the air: "Everybody, STOP!"

Frozen, staring at the boy, Jessica listens to his approaching footsteps. She knows Kilgrave's sounds by heart, and she feels the anger in the smart taps of his designer shoes beating the pavement as he nears.

"You fucking cunt," snarls Kilgrave.

That's a new one - but then, she's never almost escaped before.

 _Almost._ The word is like a knife to the chest.

Kilgrave appears before her, breaking her line of sight to the boy. He is livid.

"I gave you a chance, Jessica. A goddamn chance to prove you've matured enough to start accepting what we are. And what do you do? Betray my bloody trust, that's what! Apologize!"

"I'm sorry," she says, voice breaking.

There's a moment where Kilgrave seems too angry to even speak. His eyes are flashing at her, the veins in his neck pulling as he grits his teeth.

"Oh, I know," he finally breathes. "But not as sorry as you will be. C'mere, lad."

He waves the boy forward, and the boy comes. He still holds the knife close to his eye. Kilgrave's hand latches onto the back of the boy's neck in a tight grip.

"No," whispers Jessica brokenly. "Punish me. Leave him out of it, Kilgrave, please! Please, punish me!"

"I am," he says coldly. Then he turns his attention to the boy. "Why does a child like you have such a thing anyway?"

"M-my daddy gave me it," mutters the boy.

"No, your daddy gave it _to_  you," corrects Kilgrave. "You can't expect to go through life without knowing proper grammar. Why did he give it to you, then? Did you earn it?"

"He s..." breathes the boy, barely audible.

"Speak up!"

"He s-said I was a big boy now. He said big boys deserve more responsibility. He said - he said - he said I should only use the knife when he's there. He said we could sharpen sticks together to use for making s'mores!"

With that, the kid starts bawling, the hand holding the knife shaking worse than ever.

"Shut up right now!" commands Kilgrave harshly.

"Kilgrave, I'm begging you," says Jessica. She can't move, but she says everything she can before he has time to silence her. "I'll do anything, just leave him alone. I'll never run again, I swear to you. I swear I'll stay. I'll be whatever you want. Please!"

Kilgrave is considering her without an ounce of empathy.

"Maybe I ought to make _you_ do it," he says airily.

With that, all the blood in Jessica's veins freezes to ice.

"This really isn't about the child anyhow, is it?" Kilgrave releases the boys neck and lightly strokes his blonde hair instead. "It's about you and me. About responsibility and commitment. And consequences, naturally."

Jessica just stands there, shaking, unable to comprehend what will happen.

"Yes. There's some merit to that idea, I think." Without looking away from Jessica, Kilgrave says, "What's your name, boy?"

"Charlie."

"Why don't you hand that knife over to Jessica, Charlie?"

Shaking and crying silently, Charlie does. Puppetlike, Jessica accepts it.

"Jessica," says Kilgrave. His voice is like velvet. All the hitches from his anger have been smoothed over, and now only clean, clear malice remains. "Tell me honestly: What is the worst thing you can imagine doing to this child with his own knife?"

Jessica, against her will, locks eyes with Charlie. His are big and blue and terrified.

"Murder him," she whispers.

Kilgrave huffs. "How unimaginative. There are different ways to go about that, isn't there? Can you think of nothing?"

She actually, literally can't. Jessica's mind is a blank - one big void with room for just the one emotion: Abject horror.

A thought emerges cold and fully formed from the void.

_He is going to make me torture and kill this boy._

"Cut him, Jessica," says Kilgrave.

It washes over her - that feeling that follows one of his commands, the urge do obey. From the moment Kilgrave had her in his grasp, she has been fighting him in any way she can. But she can't. Not really. Because the truth, the awful, sickening truth, is that when her body takes a step forward, when she raises her hand that holds the knife, it's not because Kilgrave has command over her limbs. That's not his power. He commands her brain. He makes her want to do the things he tells her.

And Jessica, looking into Charlie's terrified blue eyes,  _wants to_ do it.

Charlie emits a sound, a long, drawn-out whine - he is saying _Please_ , Jessica realises. She realises it exactly when the knife makes its impact, slashing across little Charlie's chest and opening a gash in his blue t-shirt with the smiley face on it. For a second, it looks like that is the extent of the damage done.

Then comes the blood.

The knife falls from Jessica's fingers.

"Pick it up, Jessica," says someone. "Stop your screaming, lad! Oh, what a bloody tedious mess. Just finish it, Jessie, if you'd be so kind."

But he didn't say to use the knife. Jessica's hand curls around the hilt, and then her fist dashes forward. It connects with his chest. All the air leaves Charlie's lungs in one gasp, the last he'll ever make. He falls back, away, skidding far across the sidewalk before he lands in a small, broken heap. He looks like roadkill. Gone. Murdered.

"I'll need new shoes."

Jessica tears her eyes away from the boy's corpse and looks at Kilgrave. He, in turn, is studying the extent to which his shoes have been bloodied. When he feels her gaze, he looks up.

"Well, Jessie, I don't know what you expected to happen. I didn't want this either."

He seems to expect a kind of answer, but Jessica can do nothing but stare at him hopelessly. Finally he shrugs and adds, "It would have happened sooner or later, probably. You have useful skills in this apartment, obviously. And I suppose I can understand, to some extent, why you would go and run off like that. I mean, you've disappointed me, you really have. But on the other hand you won't be trying anything like this again, will you? Tell me."

Waking up in a hospital bed and learning her whole family had died had been an experience of such utter despair that Jessica would have never even conceived that the feeling could be surpassed. But now it has.

"You made me kill him," she moans. "You made me murder a child."

A crease appears between Kilgrave's finely sculpted brows. In a clipped voice, he says, "Tell me, Jessica."

"You made me a murderer."

"Jessica, no, STOP!"

It's a singular command given with fury and outrage and authority - and, behind all that, a burst of sudden fear. When was the last time Kilgrave had cause to feel fear? Has he ever? This Jessica wonders about as she buries the blade in his chest.

Kilgrave's eyes go wide.

"No," he sputters. "No, I didn't want this."

He gasps once as she withdraws the little blade from his chest, and again when she buries it in his flesh anew. They are strangely fascinating, those sounds. Kilgrave in pain and terrified - who knew this version of him even existed?

"Don't," he mewls, sinking to the ground. Jessica follows, pulling the knife, pushing it back in. "Stop her..."

But his voice is too weak to reach the group of people standing around passively, still complying with his earlier command.

Finally, in the last moments, Kilgrave's eyes look nowhere but into Jessica's.

"How?" he hiccups. Blood splatter from his lips. "I didn't want this. I didn't ask for it."

"You made me," says Jessica. "You made me..."

He only hears her the first time.

When the spell breaks and the screaming starts, when somebody hauls Jessica off of the body, she knows it over, done. 

It's not happy. It won't ever be.

But it's an end.

 


End file.
